


Filth

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Xeno [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Consensual, Death fantasies (non explicit), M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Shame kink, Tentacles, Xenophilia, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux has a boyfriend as sick as he is.





	

So, it turns out that General Hux somehow managed to find – in this vast and florid galaxy – another Human who is as depraved as he is. Somehow, in all of creation, he found the one person who wouldn’t look at him like he was primordial ooze for his…

_Peccadilloes._

Because they _are_ wrong. It’s not normal, getting off to other species. It’s not even ‘normal’ (or, it **is** in that it _happens_ , although it makes no huge amount of biological sense) to get off to someone you can’t procreate with because of gender clashes. No one thinks being gay is wrong, but…

They must think _this_ is wrong, right?

And admittedly his view of the wider world is… well he knows that… he knows aliens aren’t _like_ Humans. They’re… just not. Lesser things with either mental deficiencies or physical ones or they’re built as beasts of burden or whatever. He can’t actually tell you _why_ they’re inferior, he just knows it; knows it like he knows that Order is Good and True, and that you let bootblack sink into leather, and that a TIE/gt fighter’s standard payload is twelve concussion missiles. These things just _are_.

And it hurts his head to think about it for too long so he doesn’t.

But yes.

He’s a fucking, disgusting, filthy, shameful, hideous, hypocritical pervert. He’d wipe every other species off the face of the galaxy if he could (and droids could fill the menial void), but he gets his rocks off to – this.

This.

This being the whole heap of toys Kylo’s brought back for him, since Hux let it slip that he _might_ have a passing interest in… you know. **Exotic things**.

But Kylo Ren – a man of intense passions and intense _everything_ – down to and including his freaking _hair_ – Kylo Ren had to go and throw himself headfirst into… (he can’t even think the term, he can’t, it’s so fucking _wrong_ ).

Normal boyfriends would maybe laugh and get you one weirdly shaped dildo. Supportive boyfriends might also turn a blind eye to your holo-searches. Fucking kinky little shits go out and buy you fucking _everything the galaxy has to offer_ , so you don’t have to associate your face or your bank account with the business of _perverted alien sex_.

Yep.

That’s what he’s done. He’s bought fake dicks so big that Hux literally has to lie down and be opened for an hour before it fits in and pulses its way to making him scream. He’s bought ones that twist and bend. Ones with little spikes that deploy internally. Ones that blow up inside and won’t come out until the valve is released. Ones that ooze out stinging, throbbingly hot goop. Suction cups that latch over his nipples, and leave rings of bruises all around his skin. Pumps that make his cock feel like it’s going to explode… wiggly tentacles that Kylo uses the Force to bind him up in, and basically…

Well. Short of actually fucking a Wookie, he’s probably now had simulated sexual relations with all species capable of sexual congress, and a few that aren’t. 

It is, he has to admit, a lot safer when it’s just something he can switch on and off, and… alright. So he gets off on the shame and horror of it, as much as the act itself. The knowledge that he _shouldn’t,_ but that he _will_ , anyway. It increases the thrill of it a hundredfold to know Kylo knows, too. To know his Knight has every sordid little detail, and could destroy him at any moment.

Oh, he loves it, and he’s so fucking sick he deserves whatever happens to him as a result.

Tonight… Kylo asked him to block out the rest of the evening, and some of the morning, too. He’s been away on another mission, and he normally takes these opportunities to get fresh aides to play with him. It’s not that they don’t enjoy _regular_ sex (they do, **regularly** ), it’s just that occasionally the pair of them will have… other things happen.

Like this, tonight. He’s out of his uniform and into his bathrobe, the soft, downy material cinched around his waist. He’s nude underneath it, and his cock stirs against the fluff and almost imagines _that_ is still some creature. Maybe one he skinned alive, to jerk his dick into the fur and…

Kylo enters, and he still has his mask on. Hux dances over to him, and is surprised (pleasantly so) when his wrist is caught and he’s held back.

“No.”

“Kylo…”

“ _No._ ”

Fuck. Fuck, but that tone… it’s hot enough on its own, but filtered through the mask? Hux nearly comes right then, and he pulls at his wrist to see if he can get it free (knowing he can’t), only to find his arm twisted up and behind him, bent over double to cope with the pressure or **let his wrist be snapped clean off**.

Another shudder, and he parts his legs just slightly, shoving his ass up to indicate willingness. After all, ninety-five percent of the toys they get are for insertion. They might do other things when it’s just ‘them’, but Kylo seems to prefer to put things in him than the other way around.

‘Him’, excluded, of course. When it comes to taking it like a pro, Kylo is up there, so long as it’s _Hux-anatomy_ , and not rubberised fake dick (or other appendage). 

He’s walked across to the bed, and shoved down. Hux doesn’t fight, but he does turn his head to watch. Kylo pulls the underbed locker out, and from it out slip some of the… interesting restraints. They’re supposed to mostly be for show, but Kylo can curl the fake tendrils around his limbs and drag him wide open. Open, and ready.

And still wearing the robe, even as the tentacle-things pulse up and down his limbs, holding him spread-eagled and waiting.

“I bet you’re going to pretend you don’t want this, aren’t you? Or are you going to admit you do and wish you didn’t? What is it today?”

Both? Neither? Hux just wants to get off, okay, and this is not making it easy for him. If he wanted to be talked to death he could get a regular boyfriend.

“Don’t be obtuse, Ren.”

Hux grunts as he’s lifted up, and then a wedge is shoved under his stomach. It’s mostly made of cushions, but still it heralds something to come. Large hands find and tug his cock backwards, between his legs, and stroke over the length of it, gently. Hux has no idea what’s planned, so when a subtle pressure starts to weasel its way against his slit, he’s confused. Kylo’s never pushed anything in there before, but he seems to be intent on doing it, and the lube around the little tube he’s using makes it sting ever so slightly. It’s weird, and then it – this tiny little pipe – slides right in his urethra, and makes his cock feel oddly puffed up and turned inside out. He can’t squeeze it out, and there’s a tiny dribble of lube trickling through it, and then – _oh shit_ – either it’s vibrating, or getting warm, or buzzing, or **something** , because all he can damn think of is the way his dick is being stroked from the inside out.

It’s. It’s. Is that even safe?

He’s so busy focussing on that… that when the slather of lube hits his hole, he doesn’t even register it, not properly. There’s a narrow thing squirming into him, and then he notices because it starts to pump lube into his passage. The intruding toy is narrow, and it squelches in and out like a finger. Hux tries to turn his head, but all he can see is Kylo looking smug. Or what looks like smug. It’s his mask, still, and it’s all about the shoulders and the angle of his head. 

Right up until the thing inside his ass is _no longer_ narrow, and starts to expand by degrees.

Hux can’t see any control, but that means nothing. It’s pumping itself wider, and stretching his walls by degrees. On and on and on, the pressure hot and steady, the twin sensations driving him slowly out of his mind. He has no idea if this is even based on an alien or not, or he doesn’t until…

The pressure slides higher, rippling through him, pushed up and into and there’s something solid inside. Something he can tighten around, and it feels firm and slightly slippery, but he can’t be certain what… there’s another widening, and he realises _fuck_. Kylo found… found something that will literally lay fake eggs? (He assumes they’re fake. He’s not sure if he’d be able to perform if not.)

Three of them, nuzzling in his rear, blobbed inside him like he’s nothing more than a warm, (un-)willing(?) host. Fuck. There’s another slosh of lube pistoned into him, and then the vibrating rod in his dick and the seemingly dormant eggs in his ass. It’s… it’s… 

Normally Kylo works up to things a bit more than this. Lets him see them. Tells him what they are. Tells him how he’s a filthy little reprobate, and now it’s…

Fingers on his ass, as the tube that laid the eggs withdraws. Those digits toy at his hole, and he moans in confused pleasure It still feels good, but…

“You know, if you let those things inside you… you’d last a week. They’d stick to your insides, and wouldn’t come out. You’d wither away, slowly. You wouldn’t even remember they were in you, the venom injected into your blood would make you forget… until you keeled over from it, and gestated them the rest of the way.”

More like it. Filthy death talk. _Perfect_.

His dick stiffens, and the rod thrums electric-tight inside it, making the arousal confusingly awkward. Is he supposed to be punished for his arousal?

“…so I’m going to die?”

“Afraid so.”

“…there’s no cure for my desperate sickness?” Both physical and psychological?

“There is…” the fingers push in, and he can feel them move the lowest egg around. “…one idea.”

Oh? Hux knows Kylo won’t _actually_ kill him, but it’s the principle of the thing to not be fake-murdered by his libido. He tightens around the fingers, the eggs, and wonders should he try not to in case they pop?

“Kylo, I’m _dying_. Would you _please_ save me?”

Eggs or not, he has to make sure even in their roleplays that he survives to bring the Order into new heights, and… thumbs. Thumbs on his waist. Stroking, softly.

“I can’t guarantee,” Kylo tells him, dropping all at once. His fingers still inside, but the element of ‘threat’ to the game has it harder to keep his interest sharp. 

It’s stupid. It’s roleplay. It still makes him react oddly, and he can’t do anything about it.

“Kylo, _please would—_ OH.”

Hands on his hips, and a tongue that licks over his hole. (When did the helmet come off?) It’s still pried wider thanks to the toy, but he’d have to really push to get the egg out. Maybe the first one, but it’s not like he has much experience in expelling eggs. What’s the protocol when your boyfriend’s pushed them into you? Is it rude to push them out? Are they supposed to melt, or pop inside of you? 

Do you ask, like if it’s okay to spit?

Can I birth your crazy alien sex eggs?

Watch out we’re having triplets, I hope you have names?

Fire in the hole?

Hux is possibly delirious right now, and he’s wondering if there’s anything hoopy in that lube, or if it’s just the sudden, odd sensation of his rectum being stuffed, or…

Hands pull his cheeks apart, and Hux braces but doesn’t expect the sudden kiss of Kylo’s wide lips settling around his hole. There’s a firm – sloppy – lick of his tongue, and then he feels a weird _tug_ as… fuck. **Fuck**. He’s trying to suck the damn things out of him? Really? 

Rod or not, Hux’s dick shrieks to full attention, and he humps as much as he can until his ass-cheeks are pinched to stillness, and the tongue and lips that prise and pull send his head out into hyperspace. He has no idea even if Kylo can manage to—

 _Push_.

One word, deep in his head. Okay. Okay. So he wants him to… he… It’s awkward, but he tries to use the same muscles he does when Kylo’s cock is deep inside, rippling his sense of the intrusion down, feeling the suction against his hole and…

…suddenly there’s a _pop_ and his hole is stretched to bursting and then slinking back shut as the first egg is removed. He gasps in shock, and then feels Kylo _cheating_. He uses the Force to encourage his walls to wobble the next one closer, and then there’s lips and sucking again and Hux doesn’t remember _ever_ feeling this filthy before, _ever._ It’s wonderful, and he pushes with much wilder abandon this time, barely remembering not to rupture himself in the process. 

Pop. Suck. Suck. Suck. Suck. Pop. Out they go, leaving him feeling… empty, but good. The mask snaps back over Kylo’s face with a click. The tingly stick is still tingly, and Hux’s ass is now empty and missing the heavy weight. He whines, wiggling it in hope, and then watches in deep longing as the little sacs are held over Kylo’s cock… and cracked. Squeezed to bursting, oozing a purple-green liquid out that smells like their favourite lubricant. 

Not poison, after all, but then… this is a fantasy, right? His mouth salivates at the scent, the sight of Kylo’s full cock stroked to battle-readiness, and the lack of his lover’s eyes is just… fucking hell. He wants to see them, wants to look for anger, disgust, shame… arousal. Wants to know if he’s supposed to feel guilty, or if he’s allowed to feel aroused. The cock in his hand says one thing, but the lack of eyes or mouth says the other. The mixed signals make him flag slightly, right up until the Knight’s cock pushes against his hole once more.

A full, full pressure and then a _slop_ of his dick inside. It goes in smoothly, and stretches him only slightly more than the tube had. But this one doesn’t bubble out and in around eggs, it’s just a full rod of lust, and Hux rocks himself backwards onto it, almost ready to beg.

The thin sound device in his dick itches a little, but the harder he’s taken, the more difficult it is to remember. Squelchy fingers, the scent of _sex_ , and the tube is pulled out, leaving his cock feeling weirdly opened up and empty. He cries in distress, only to get a thumb over his slit, playing roughly with it. 

He wants to come. He wants to come so very badly. His feet claw at the sheets, his hands in the pillow as he rides back onto Kylo’s cock. He wants, wants, wants… and there’s a sudden flood of heat deep inside that says Kylo’s come _first_ , and he’s such a bad fuck he hasn’t come and—

“You’re _filth_ ,” the voice from the mask growls at him. 

Hux is. He comes with one more stroke, feeling the weight of his sin in his belly, and under and all over him.

Filth. He’s disgusting. And he fucking **loves it**.


End file.
